


He Remembers

by SilverNyctophilia



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes & Peggy Carter Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter, No Spoilers, Not Beta Read, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Realization, Reminiscing, Sad, Sharing a Bed, Sick Steve, Unrequited Love, sad bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverNyctophilia/pseuds/SilverNyctophilia
Summary: “James, you’re in love with him.”...He doesn’t remember falling in love; Bucky did remember the way his heart raced when he first told Becca about that stupid blond kid he’s saved from the other kids. Bucky remembered the way his heart raced when he’d first laid down next to Steve. He remembered the way the smaller boy felt in his arms, the skinny hand clenching his shirt, Steve's nose nuzzling into his chest and his legs all over him. He remembered the two of them strolling the city at night, talking about how they’d make it out and do great things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Very little actual plot in this one, but I hope everyone enjoys! :)

“Let’s hear it for Captain America!” 

This time it was Dugan. He lead the cheer for his new found comrade, the rest of the Commandos lifted their glasses and cheered with a loud Clink! echoing in the bar. A wave of drunken laughter and cheering erupted from around the man who sat with his head down and smile hidden.  
The man Bucky wanted to give a good ol’ knuckle sandwich to, more than anything in this moment. The man who had single handedly jumped out of a plane, or so Bucky was told, and walked straight into a nazi occupied base, with the intent of freeing men who may have been dead for all he knew. 

Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat; they could’ve been dead, and it would’ve been his fault.  
He remembers lying on that table, strapped in by soldiers who looked at him as though he weren’t human. He remembers feeling the cold metal through his uniform. He remembers feeling nothing, then feeling everything. What they did to him, whatever it was that they did... he felt all of it.

James Buchanan Barnes remembers laying there selfishly wishing for death.  
Though, the thought had been brief. ‘Can’t leave him, stupid punk...needs me.’ He remembers feeling as though heaven's gates had opened and an angel greeted him. An angel wearing his best friend’s face. Of course God would torment him like that; forcing him to look upon the face of the man he’d missed the most. 

That had been days ago. At least that’s what Bucky thinks. His perception of time has been off since the rescue; since not-so-little Steve from Brooklyn carried him out of that hell on earth. Bucky shuddered, willing himself to think of other things, better things. Like the man of the night. Steven Grant Rogers sat in the middle table, surrounded by comrades on either side. Dugan gestured wildly with his hands. Though Bucky was too far to hear, he was positive Dugan was in the middle of a story. Silence didn't suit him, that much had been apparent since the rescue. 

 

Bucky remembers his muteness during the walk back to the base. After escaping the blazing building, he hadn’t spoken. He couldn’t. When the initial shock wore off, he was left with thoughts of the capture, thoughts of the torment. That didn’t stop a man, whose spirit was as fiery as his hair was red, from speaking to Bucky as though they’d known each other for years. Even as the days passed and morale fell amongst the soldiers, Dugan, whose friends called him “Dum Dum”, remained as talkative as he was now. At the time his positivity was valued more than anything. No one really listened to what he said, as they were exhausted, but it was refreshing to see just a fiery spirit in such a dark time. 

Now, Dugan’s tale enthralled a group of men who listened intently. Or, as intently as they could- most being too tipsy to follow along. Bucky’s eyes went to Steve. His friend sat, hair combed to the side, collar pressed, and a wide smile plastered on his face as Dugan spoke. Steve had always loved a good story. 

Bucky remembered telling him all kinds of stories when they were younger, it was something he picked up from watching his sister. Rebecca couldn’t have been more than four; that’s when Bucky begun to watch her. She would throw her toys and scream her little head off, simply because she could. He’d been helpless against her tantrums. It wasn’t until he sat her down and spoke softly, instead of his usual method of trying to gather a squirming child in his arms. He ended up talking to her for hours as she sat intently. He told her nothing special, just of that kid at school that he always seemed to pull out of fist fights. Before he realized it, she had fallen asleep in his lap. 

God he missed her. They were always close; even when Bucky moved in with Steve, he stopped by whenever he could. Years of taking care of her had left him with this unexplainable protective instinct, which he knew he projected on Steve. How could he avoid it? Steve had probably been smaller than Becca anyway. That, and he’d been as reckless as any kid. He had a nasty habit of letting himself get so angry, he’d trigger an asthma attack.

In the aftermath of an asthma attack Steve would be exhausted, his smaller than average body was no match for the assault on his lungs. After Bucky got him to lie down, and after they argued about Bucky’s overbearing ways, he would begin telling him stories. Stupid little things. Gosh, Steve used to love hearing them, and Bucky loved telling them. 

Bucky downs his drink in a large gulp, wincing as the liquor burned as it went down his throat. He looked down at the ice in his glass, swishing it around thoughtlessly. He reached over the bar counter and poured himself a drink. It was late in the night and everyone took to serving themselves. He took a sip and sigh at the familiar burning sensation. Bucky sat on a bar stool and thought back to when he’d last drank this much. 

 

Last winter, a blizzard had hit Brooklyn yet again. The weather had always been dreadful for him, knowing the inevitability of what would soon follow, and follow, it did. It had started with a sneeze wracking his tiny frame. This was followed by another, then the coughing started. Steve always coughed, always wheezed so loud you could hear it in a quiet room, but it was only in the winter it got this bad. Bucky remembers how stubborn Steve had been, how stubborn he always was, insisting he was fine. Steve had gotten sick in record time, and before either of them realized, he found himself stuck in bed with a fever that lasted weeks. Bucky of course saw this coming, it happened every year, but it didn’t make it any less frightening. Some time around the fourth or fifth day of being sick Steve’s fever spiked.  
Bucky stayed with him all the while. 

 

Bucky took a sip, his throat burned. He tugged at his collar, the cool draft from the open door hit his warm skin.

 

The first day home he’d sat in a chair beside the bed, Steve called him a slacker and tossed a pillow at his face when he announced he wasn’t leaving until Steve was better.  
The third day he sat on the floor with his back against the bed, telling Steve a story to pass the time. It was about a “loud-mouthed little boy with the smallest body and biggest eyes you’d ever seen, who loved to pick fights he couldn’t win.” Steve whispered a small, ‘jerk,’ and Bucky could hear the smile on his face.  
The fifth day Bucky had sat on the bed beside the little punk. Steve’s fever dreams were always the worst. He’d call out his mother’s name, becoming more confused when she didn’t respond.  
Bucky never had the nerve to remind Steve his mother was dead. “Ma? Can you come? Are you there?” Bucky would dread coming in the room and hearing Steve’s confused voice. “Buck? What are you doing here? God, when’d you get so big, Buck?”  
“Steve, I’m here, your Ma’s comin home real soon, I didn’t get bigger Steve you’re just real small.” 

 

He swallows another sip, a larger sip and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, the heat was really starting to bother him.

Then Steve would cry. God help him, Steve Rogers would cry and call out for his Ma, and Bucky’s heart ached worse every time. He would sit on the bed and press a wet cloth to Steve's forehead and smooth his hair, trying hard to make Steve smile or at least stop crying. He would reminisce aloud stories of their childhood, stories of their future and anything else that come to mind. He would go on and on, trying his best to ignore the hiccups from the smaller man. 

Bucky poured himself another drink and sipped slower this time. 

 

When Steve was real sick Bucky would swallow his pride and get in bed with him, sitting with his back against the wall, legs outstretched and hand on Steve’s head. In a hazy, exhausted manor Steve would turn to him and whisper his name, a quiet, confused, “Buck?” before he would shift so he could curl around the larger man, half for heat, half for comfort, and Bucky was glad to give it to him. He could never deprive Steve of what he wanted, it wasn’t in him. 

The first time he laid beside Steve was back when they were teenagers. Steve’s ma had to work extra long at the hospital as more and more people got sick. Bucky had promised to check up on Steve every so often. Bucky had unlocked the door and walked up to Steve’s room. His heart had swelled when he lay eyes on the pale, trembling boy, who was too dazed to realize his friend stood before him. He looked so small curled up in the thin sheet, Bucky couldn’t help himself. He’d shrugged his coat off and draped it on Steve before laying beside him, throwing as much of his body over Steve to keep him warm. It hadn’t taken Steve long to curl up to Bucky’s chest, gripping his shirt tightly. To this day Bucky would deny holding him as tight as he had, he would deny kissing his head and humming into his ear softly. 

When the worst of the fever had passed, the pair would act like nothing had happened. Steve would just mutter a small; “Uh thanks Buck.” To which Bucky would respond with something like; “No problem pal, same time next year?” Which would earn him a pillow to the face yet again.

He took another sip. He rolled his sleeves up and popped a few buttons open, feeling the heat in the bar.

Last time it hadn’t gone so smooth. Steve was hit with it all, fever, chills, coughing and aching limbs. Bucky was trying his hardest but there was only so much he could handle. He drank a lot then, to ease his mind. He downed so much cheap liquor he made himself sick, and when he stopped throwing up, he drank again. His throat had burned as the liquor stung his already raw throat. 

 

He took another sip. 

 

It was blurry, his memory, but that night he’d collapsed next to Steve. Bucky felt helpless-useless. If he could do it, Bucky would have taken Steve’s pain away in an instant. Bucky held him so tight he felt the shivering against his body and the shaky breath on his neck. He remembers crying like he hadn’t in years.  
“Steve please, Steve wake up, oh my god please wake up...not after everything,...” He begged with his face in Steve’s hair and body wrapped around his. Steve woke a few hours later, trying to shift around. Bucky jerked awake and in his drunken state he blurted out, “don’t leave me..” 

Bucky tipped his head back and downed another drink. 

 

He felt his muscles loosen and body sway. His head throbbed, either at the liquor or the noise in the bar. The loudest of it came from the table where Steve and the Commandos sat. Steve laughed a laugh he hadn’t in a while as Morita clapped him on the back. He tilted his head down and smiled into his lap, a gesture Bucky knew as Steve hiding his blushing face. Another cheer erupted and men around him clapped. Bucky felt his chest tighten at the sight of his best friend. Finally. Some recognition for little Steve Rogers, though he wasn’t so little anymore he supposed. 

Bucky was glad. Really, he was. For all of this. Steve deserved the world and more if you asked him. The kid had always been great in Bucky's eyes, he was glad others were beginning to see it too. Hopefully now, so would Steve.  
Bucky took another sip. 

It wasn’t that he would miss ‘little Steve’, if anything he was relieved to not have to constantly watch his back. It’s just that, Steve could watch his own back. Not to mention the hundreds of soldiers that would undoubtedly look out for him now. God, he knew he should’ve been happier for his best friend. He was just worried that...Steve wouldn’t need him anymore. Now that he was Captain America, he could have anyone he wanted. So why would he choose to keep Bucky around? After all, he hadn’t been able to save his own men. He’d just be a faceless name in the history books. Just a ghost of the past, looming in the back of Steve’s mind… He shook his head. He wouldn’t do that, not Steve- never Steve. He would always need Bucky, and Bucky would always need Steve, no matter how useless he felt, no matter how broken he was. Bucky reaches toward the bottle again. 

As he began to pour more liquor, a hand grabs his wrist. Bucky blinked and followed the hand on his wrist. A red dress hung loose on her body, yet still tight enough to see her curves. Red lips and determined eyes faced him. He blinked and after a few seconds, let go. 

“Ma’am,” he greeted. Peggy let go of his hand and took the bottle from his grasp. She poured herself a drink. “Sergeant Barnes.” She greeted him with a nod. Still composed and as put together as ever, she sat next to him, pouring him a drink herself.“Captain Rogers told me you were recovering well.” She took a sip.  
“Mhm, yes Ma'am.” He responded.  
“Good.” she downed the rest of her drink quicker than Bucky had ever seen, and poured herself another. Then without so much as a wince, she shot back her second drink, face unchanged, as to prove a point. She hummed happily, a rare sound in the back of her throat.  
“Never seen a woman hold their own’ as well as you do.” He said, eyes once again fixed on the Commandos ahead.  
“Hold my own what, exactly?” Bucky could practically hear the smile on her lips. 

He turned to look at her for a moment. He wanted to say he’d never seen a Woman hold her own head up as high as she did. He wanted to say he’d never seen a woman hold her own position in a place she hadn’t been allowed in the first place. He wanted to say he’s never seen a woman hold her own temper back as well as she had, when it came to sly remarks from the few rotten soldiers. He’d never seen anyone hold Steve’s gaze as long as she had. Instead, he responded with, “...their own liquor.”  
She laughed, as if surprised by his response. “I hadn’t always been a drinker, you know. I suppose it’s something I’ve picked up whilst being here.”  
“Yeah, suppose it’s hard not to..” 

The pair winched at the sound of crashing glass, followed by a hearty laugh and swearing in french. 

“Dugan! Dernier!” Peggy yelled in an authoritative manner that was all too familiar.  
“Apologies, Ma'am, I will pay for that glass!” Bucky heard as laughter erupted from the men once more.  
Peggy leaned against the bar, sitting on the stool more comfortable. Her expression had softened as she let herself relax, a rare moment Bucky guessed.  
“Hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries, but you look lovely tonight, Peggy.” He dropped the formalities.  
“That’s very sweet James. You’re looking particularly…” she pauses, and looks to Steve and the men, then back at him. “You’re looking particularly, lonesome.” Though her tone was playful, her face softened in sympathy toward him. Bucky merely shrugged. He shot her a half-assed smile.  
“They’re great and all but I needed a break, they really tire you out, ya know?…”  
“Is that right?” She asked, unconvinced.  
“Yeah.” Bucky muttered, hoping she wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

It’s not that he didn’t like her, in fact- the two had grown very close in such a short time. Bucky thinks it has more to do with Steve. As ridiculous as it sounds, the two first talked over a bottle of booze and a story of Steve’s recklessness. Peggy had told him of Steve jumping out of the plane, wearing nothing but his stage costume. It took him the entire night to cool down and swear he wouldn’t pummel Steve the next time he saw him. Steve went on and on about her, Bucky nearly slapped him. Sure, back home Steve looked around, he was definitely into the dames in Brooklyn. It’s just that, Bucky had never seen him so interested in anyone the way he was Peggy. It made him feel,... well it didn’t make him feel good. 

“...I wouldn’t stick around.”  
Her voice interrupted his train of thought. “Pardon?”  
“If you’re tired James, go rest.”  
“No, I’m fine. I think a few drinks’ll do me good, maybe it’ll help me cool down.”  
“It looks like you’ve had a little more than just a few.”  
He didn’t say anything. Maybe he was more buzzed than he realized. Bucky closed his eyes rubbed his temple, noticing the throbbing feeling in his head, “when did it get so damn hot in this bar?  
“Pretty sure it’s not the bar, do you need to go outside?” He groaned in response. Bucky slipped off the stool, nearly falling forward if it weren’t for Peggy grabbing his shoulders. “I think you've had enough.” She said with a laugh.  
“M’fine, it’s just a little hot in here.” His clumsy fingers tumbled with a button, trying to rip it off.  
“James?” Peggy grabbed his wrists and pulled them from his buttons. His hands found their way to her upper arms.

The next few moments were a blur. He somehow went from bracing against the bar, to falling in Peggy's arms. God, she was stronger than she looked. Bucky heard Peggy whisper into his ear. “Lean on me, walk- slowly... careful.”  
The next thing he knew, Bucky was outside. A cooler breeze hit him, it felt good on his burning skin.  
Bucky realized Peggy had knelt in front of him. Bucky could feel her nails through his coat, gripping his shoulders, holding him upright. “You’re drunk.”  
“Am not.”  
“Don’t be childish.”  
“Hmph.”

She stood up, facing away from him. Bucky could hear her whisper something about him being ‘stubborn as a mual’. He would argue, but he was sure if he opens his mouth he’d lose his dinner. She turned to face him. 

There was something familiar about Peggy; Bucky had known it since he’d first encountered her. The way she was ‘all work- no nonsense’ at first. Not to mention he was always amazed at how she’d speak to the soldiers, with such authority you’d think she were talking to a group of children; though to be fair a lot of the men here aren't that different. Despite looking like a delicate little, she fought hard when she needed too; kind of like Steve.

“James?” She snapped her fingers by his face.  
“What?...” he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. She stood, looking at him with an expression he could not read. Finally, she sigh and sat next to him.  
“You look terrible.”  
“Golly Peggy, you’re quite the charmer.” She hit him on the shoulder.  
He groaned. God, tomorrow's hangover would be a bitch.

Then again, he’d always been a little bit of a problem after a night of drinking. Bucky had tons of memories involving him coming home and passing out in the kitchen, only to wake up in the bathroom with a pissed off Steve trying not to show how winded he was from dragging his friend from one room to the next. Bucky would laugh at the look from his friend. It was supposed to be one of disappointment, but instead resembled a pissed off kid. He’d laugh till he threw up, and Steve would call him an idiot but stay to rub his back nonetheless. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Peggy’s voice brought him back to the moment. He shook his head.  
“Life before all this. Back when we were young and dumb and ready for the world.”  
“We?” Peggy raised an eyebrow.  
“Steve and I.” His face suddenly fell; it felt like someone had taken his heart from his chest.  
Peggy took his hand and squeezed it gently, noticing the expression on his face.  
“Are you alright?” she asked  
“No-I don’t think so.” he said, answering honestly for the first time in a long time.  
“Talk to me, James. Maybe I can help you.” She told him with so much sincerity in her tone, that he almost did tell her.  
“I can’t.” he shook his head and pulled his hand away from hers, wrapping his arms around himself, wanting to shrink as small as he could so that he’d disappear- maybe then, his heart would stop hurting.  
“Is this about the ‘procedures’?”  
Procedures- that’s what they were calling it.

Bucky remembered being called into Phillips tent, where he was questioned for a few hours. He remembered Steve refusing to leave, even when he’d been ordered too. Bucky remembered Steve’s face getting paler by the minute as he described the ‘procedures’ Zola carried out on him. All that poking and prodding. He didn’t know why, just that he’d survived it when no one else did. 

“No.” He said. “I uh, guess I’m just not adjusting as well as I thought. I’m not hurt, you know? Think everything’s just about healed- I’m just, I’m pissed. We’ve been back for a while but I haven’t had a minute to just...”

He shook his head. Anger built in his chest. There wasn’t a moment where they left him alone. It was always someone, they were watching him when they thought he wasn’t looking. He was helpless, and they confirmed it.

“I was on that fucking table for days, Peggy- days. And the shit they did, it’s like I wasn’t human, like I couldn't feel anything, but I could, Peggy- I could. Oh my God, I could, and I did. I felt all of it, and I couldn't save myself.” 

Tears of anger gathered in his eyes. His hands clenched his sides as Bucky curled up smaller, ducking his head into his knees. He felt Peggy put an arm around his shoulders and turn him so they faced each other. He refused to look her in the eye. 

“You know the worst part? Before that, before they took me, they were taking other men. They opened the cage and picked anyone out, they dragged them away like it was nothing, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I couldn’t save my own men. I was weak, Peggy, I was scared, I couldn't-...” She pulled his head to her shoulder. He hadn’t realized he was yelling. Her arms came around to rub his back and smooth his hair. The anger left him as he breathed deeply, all that was left was pain.  
“Peggy I let them down, people died because I couldn’t keep them safe.”  
“Shhh...it’s alright.”  
“God, the cages, oh my god…” Bucky gasped into her shoulder. “I thought it was over...I thought I was a dead man. Then when Steve came…” At his own mention of Steve, his chest tightened.  
“You’re not there anymore, James. It’s over.” Peggy told him. He shook his head, pulling away, but still letting her hold him by the shoulders.  
“It’s not over. I’m still afraid of what they did to me.” He told her.  
“God, I feel so weak.” Peggy sat listening to what Bucky had told her with disbelief on her face. “Listen to me.” She touched his cheek. “You’re not weak, anyone who went through what you did would be scared.” She told him, sympathy laced her voice. It only served to make him frustrated.

“But you don’t understand.” he said.  
“Then help me understand!” She pressed. “James I can’t help if you don’t…-”  
"I couldn't take care of them, I couldn't take care of myself, I couldn't...". "You don't have to take care of them. It's okay to be weak sometimes." “I can’t look after him if I’m weak, Peggy! Don't you get it?”  
He yelled. His chest rose up and down, trying to fill his lungs. “He doesn’t need me anymore!” Those last words hit him, hard, knocking the air from his lungs and making his chest ache. “He doesn’t need me anymore…”

Bucky rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, head coming down to hang between his knees once more.  
“...but I still need him. I need him so much I can’t take it.”  
He nearly choked on his words.  
"Taking care of him, it's all I know how to do, and if I can't..." "James?" “What’s wrong with me, Peggy?” He hadn’t been expecting an answer to that question, so it took him off guard when she spoke. “He’s your best friend, you’re scared of loosing him, And believe me he’s scared of losing you too.” she paused. “You know, you were the reason he went, Steve heard you were missing, and he refused to believe you were dead. He did this for you; he needs you.”  
“No- it’s more than that.. he doesn't need me like I need him. “  
Bucky lifted his head. “It’s not the way he needs you.” Bucky regretted the words as soon as they passed his lips. Peggy looked confused, mouth still open as if to question him; but she closed it. Her gaze softened as realization hit.

“James, you’re in love with him.” Peggy smiled as tears gathered in her eyes, as she finally understood why Bucky had been so hurt at the idea of Steve not needing him. Bucky opened his mouth, ready to protest but he couldn’t find any words. He knew he loved Steve, but not that he was in love. 

He doesn’t remember falling in love; Bucky did however, remember the way his heart raced when he first told Becca about that stupid blond kid he’s saved from the other kids. Bucky remembered the way his heart raced when he’d first laid down next to Steve. He remembered the way the smaller boy felt in his arms, the skinny hand clenching his shirt, Steve's nose nuzzling into his chest and his legs all over him. He remembered the two of them strolling the city at night, talking about how they’d make it out and do great things. He remembered how his chest tightened for some ‘unknown reason’ as he watched Steve dance with his date. How Steve’s kind words and soft touch were enough to melt his worry away. The way it hurt him to see Steve cry when his Ma passed. Taking care of Steve after he’d gotten drunk one night, having to strip him down and clean him up, looking at his skinny body with feelings he couldn’t understand, looking at his beautiful blue eyes and promising to never let tears leave them as long as he was breathing...

Bucky was horrified as he realized Steve wasn’t just his best friend anymore; he was everything to him...and he was slipping farther away each time Bucky blinked. In that moment he felt sick. Not like he’d throw up; it was more like he’d fall apart. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time. 

“I love him, Peggy. I’m In love with Steve.” Realization hit him hard. “But he’ll never love me back.” 

There was nothing Peggy could say to make it better- nothing to comfort him. She couldn’t tell him it would be alright, because she didn’t think it would. They were men, and not just any men. They were brothers in arms, they were Captain America and Sergeant Barnes. Maybe if they'd been nobody. Just some nameless kids back home, maybe then they could hide it…but then, there was no guarantee of Steve Rogers settling for Bucky, not when he could find a beautiful girl and have a real life. Steve and some dame, they'd move outta the city and settle somewhere quiet, somewhere better for raising kids with the same blue eyes as their father. At least that's what Bucky thought about it. And if all went well, Bucky would find himself in the same position, living just next door to his best pal. They'd look up into the sky and say they've made it. He was sure life would play out like that, it was all he had wanted for the both of them- but he wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe all he really wanted from that dream was Steve beside him, as close as possible- even if that meant seeing him happy with someone else. Someone who could give him everything that Bucky knew he never could. Someone who could take care of him. He almost didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

“Hey, I’ve been asking around for you two all night, everything okay?” Steve asked them, knowing fully well something was off. Peggy looked at Bucky who, made no effort to hide. She gave him a final pat on the back and a warm smile before she stood and without a word left the two of them alone.

“No, Steve-everything's not…” his voice stopped working as a sob etched it's way up his throat.  
Steve’s eyes widened with concern as he knelt quickly. “Buck, what is it?” he asked, with his hands on Bucky’s shoulders.  
Bucky looked into those blue eyes filled with so much worry, so much determination, so much love, those beautiful blue eyes…he choked on another sob.  
“Don’t go..”, was all his strained voice could mutter. He’s not sure if those words came out clear enough for Steve to understand. But it seemed he understood enough. Steve pulled Bucky in for a hug. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, clinging onto him in desperation.  
“You’re okay, I got you.” Steve told him. “It’s going to be okay, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Steve told him slowly, emphasizing everything and making sure to never loosen his hold on the other man.  
“Steve please…”  
“It’s okay.”  
“Steve…”  
“I got you Buck.” He didn’t press Bucky for an explanation, he just sat there holding him- being there as long as his friend need him. For a moment they weren’t Captain America and Sergeant Barnes; they were Steve and Bucky from Brooklyn. If he closed his eyes and inhaled, Bucky swore he could trick himself into thinking they were back at the apartment, his head tucked into Steve’s shoulder after a long day by the docks, breathing in the scent of the other man, a scent he’d called home a long time ago. When the world was too much for him to handle, Steve would stay close and remind him he was never alone.  
If Steve only knew how sick he was, falling for his best friend. He’d lose everything. The thought of losing everyone, losing himself, those were bearable. But the thought of losing Steve made his heart ache. He was trapped. He couldn’t tell him in fear of inevitable rejection, or disgust- this would always weigh him down. He would always have to put on a smile and swallow his love for Steve as he drifted further and further away, until he was alone. But he wasn't alone right now. 

So Bucky sat there, unable to find it in himself to care if anyone saw; and cried his heart out in the neck of a man who would never love him the way he so desperately needed to be loved.  
And Steve held him closer and tighter, bearing his weight and shielding him from the world around them.

Bucky wondered if this would be the last time.


End file.
